


Cosmic Convergence

by SegantEnfield



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drawn Out Foreplay, First Time, Fluff, I put Aziraphale in a 18th century dress because I'm gay for that eras fashion, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Wing Grooming, kinda more like wing groping, lots of emotions, service top Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegantEnfield/pseuds/SegantEnfield
Summary: “Crowley!” he squeaked in a rather humiliating octave, scrambling to stand upright. If Crowley seeing him in his petticoats had excited Aziraphale three centuries before, being seen without them turned his blood to fire. Even through those glasses, Aziraphale could feel his eyes on him, on his legs, his bare clavicle, his exaggerated hips. He was practically naked. He’d never stood in front of Crowley with so little between them before, with the exception of the earliest days, before pants. Had he felt so exposed in Rome? Did Crowley’s gaze feel so hungry and heavy in Eden?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 260
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations





	Cosmic Convergence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaeifly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaeifly/gifts).



> anaeifly, this was a lot of fun to write, I hope you like it

In the first few weeks after the world refused to end, there was an unnerving stillness, like the heartbeat after glass falls from its perch and everyone holds their breath and waits for the shattering crash. As it turns out, after six thousand years of looking over one's shoulder for danger, that sort of dread is hard to unlearn. No matter how he told himself they were safe, his heart pounded in his ears whenever they got too close or walked together in the open. If anything, the bout after the end, when he'd gone to Hell for Crowley only made his fears stronger.

What if Hell reviewed their notes and noticed that Crowley hasn't been quite himself when he sat in that bathtub. Could Aziraphale count so heavily on his own skills in acting? He thought, actually, that it might be better thought of as deceiving, in this situation. For an angel, he found himself lying a lot. That time with God… that time not even a full week ago when he'd found Agnes Nutter's masterpiece and shut himself away in the back of his shop. Not telling Crowley a thing.

The worst of it was that he knew he should be happy. He should feel safe and relieved in the face of the knowledge that they're free. But instead, he was holed up in his shop doing not much of anything but avoiding the very person he most desperately wanted beside him. He didn’t even dare venture downstairs in fear that the demon would be there, sprawled casually on his couch in the backroom waiting for his company. Instead of living his new free life, he was hiding in a room that frankly only existed to house his clothes. He felt silly being afraid now, after all, that they had survived together. Maybe it wasn’t just the danger that worried him. Maybe it was the idea of what came next for the two of them. What if he’d misunderstood every shared lunch and stolen glance? What if he couldn’t hold himself back around Crowley anymore, now that the threat of losing him to Heaven or Hell’s rage was gone? Would Crowley reject him? Would stepping out of line and going off of their practiced script ruin the delicate balance between them? Aziraphale was sure he could feel the love radiating off of Crowley when they’re in the same city, but he’d been wrong before. He’d misunderstood Crowley before.

He’d already read everything he’d left in the bedroom, but he was too stubborn to let boredom drag him from his hiding spot. He considered reading _The Catcher in the Rye_ again, but he didn’t love that particular book enough to read it twice within the same twenty-four hours. Sighing, he stood from the desk chair and walked to one of his wardrobes, easing the creaking doors open. It had been at least a decade since he’d taken a full inventory of his clothes. He was frequently repairing what he wore regularly, and everything was kept as safe as miracles could keep them. Generally, he liked to organize the oldest of it chronologically, buying a new wardrobe when one was filled. The newest clothes in this particular armoire were as old as the smallpox vaccine. The 18th century had been an interesting time for fashion. It was wonderful to see what Crowley did with the natural hairstyles of the later decades. Aziraphale liked the huge elegant wigs and powder for himself, but he had mourned whenever he saw Crowley cover his lovely hair.

Carefully, Aziraphale lifted each article from the rod they hung from and laid them about the unused bed. Seeing all of it brought back so many memories. He had nearly forgotten about his sets of stays, from his three decades mid-century he spent presenting femininely. The big skirts and conical support garments decorated in silk and brocade enchanted him then as much as now. One such pair of stays, light blue with gold binding and laces, was in less than perfect condition. It had been his favorite. Remembering the time Crowley had seen him in his stays and petticoats brought a flush to his cheeks. Sure, his skin had stayed just as covered as always, but being seen in his underthings by him still thrilled and embarrassed him. It was like a moment in the raunchiest romance novels the era had to offer. For a lady to be seen without her over-skirts and robe was… most improper.

He wondered if those nice dresses still fit him.

Aziraphale put nearly everything back into the wardrobe, the task of upkeep entirely forgotten as he began to undress. Everything had to go. He wouldn’t blaspheme the dress with his modern men’s socks. He wasn’t an animal. When he wore an old outfit, he wore it accurately. He only had time to shudder at the air on his skin for a moment before he was pulling a shift on over his head. The thin linen dress barely went passed his knees. He lowered himself to the ground to search the lower part of the wardrobe for stockings. Something silk, with a nice clock. He found a pair and sat on the bed to pull them on over his knees and secure them with a ribbon tied in a bow. This sort of thing was soothing. He could pretend, on days like this, with the sun as the only light and the windows closed to the sounds of cars below, that things didn’t change overnight. That the world would stay the same as it was for long enough for him to breathe and take it in. Getting dressed the same way he did in 1750. As if the planet didn’t spin too quickly and society didn’t move on and forget what they used to like. He couldn’t help but smile at being reminded of the feeling of silk stockings and cotton petticoats.

Aziraphale had never been the type to wear something that needed help to put on. That’s why all three pairs of stays he owned laced in both the front and the back. He luxuriated in the ritual of threading his lacing to a sewing awl and running it through the offset eyelets in a spiral. He half expected his hands to fumble, the muscle memory of three centuries ago long faded, but his hands still knew what to do. Amazingly, he was able to tie off the lace and tuck it between a panel of boned fabric and his shift. He looked around the bed for the pockets he had to tie on his waist but groaned when he realized he’d left that at the bottom of the wardrobe and he’d have to kneel on the floor again.

That was much easier said than done in stays.

He whined to himself and braced his hands on his bed to gradually lower himself. He’d never had to squat with such a straight back before, it was dreadful.

“Well now, that haircut is a bit anachronistic, isn’t it?” Drawled Crowley from the doorway, making Aziraphale jump and bump his head on the wooden door of the armoire.

“Crowley!” he squeaked in a rather humiliating octave, scrambling to stand upright. If Crowley seeing him in his petticoats had excited Aziraphale three centuries before, being seen without them turned his blood to fire. Even through those glasses, Aziraphale could feel his eyes on him, on his legs, his bare clavicle, his exaggerated hips. He was practically naked. He’d never stood in front of Crowley with so little between them before, with the exception of the earliest days, before pants. Had he felt so exposed in Rome? Did Crowley’s gaze feel so hungry and heavy in Eden? “Dear Lord, are you trying to scare me to death?” he admonished to hide the thrill that ran through him.

Crowley put his hands up, still somehow casual, damn him. “You weren’t answering, but I could tell you were home so I came up”. Finally, he tilted his head away from Aziraphale to look around the room “ I‘ve never been here before. But those stays are familiar”

“dear boy" he was breathless and he could hear it in his own voice, so he took a moment to swallow his panic. His hands reached for the petticoats. "I would have met you in the shop if you had only waited"

"I did wait a good while. Sat in your back room and yelled. You didn't hear?" Crowley shrugged and pulled himself off the door frame to walk toward Aziraphale "probably better that way, even I got annoyed with myself"

Aziraphale swallowed and stepped into two petticoats at once, anything to speed up the process. "What were you yelling about?"

"You." He answered as he walked around Aziraphale to stop behind him. He picked up the four ties that came from the front halves of the petticoats and tied them behind Aziraphale. "Mostly your name, some swears. Who made these stays? When would you ever have your wings out?” He turned to the open wardrobe to retrieve one of Aziraphale's outer dresses. It wasn't the one he used to pair with these specific stays but it was well-loved. It had slits down the back to match the stays, though they were hidden by its cloak-like train.

Aziraphale hurried to tie the rest of the petticoat in front of himself, “I made them. I wouldn’t have shown them to my human seamstress. I wore my wings out for costume parties”. When he looked up, Crowley was holding the creme and blue robe open for him. He thanked him as he slipped his arms into the elbow-length sleeves. Crowley even handed him the stomacher when it came time to close the dress in the front. “The humans would always be so enchanted by them”

"I think I’d have liked to see your wings in that dress. Do you have a busk?" He was looking up at Aziraphale from the floor in front of the wardrobe. "I can't find one"

"Oh, I'd forgotten about those. I don't know, I think mine broke"

"Eh, that's fine" he snapped and held out a dark oak busk as casually as he’d offer Aziraphale an ice cream cone.

Aziraphale was worried he’d faint when he took it. He half expected to see “A.J.C., A.Z.F.” carved into the wood, but instead of the traditional style of engraving, it was covered front and back with a winding, detailed snake. "Oh, my"

"Sorry, split-second decision. I could get one that's more your style…"

"Was this yours?" He asked, fingers following the curves of the snake. Crowley looked worried. Aziraphale slid the busk into its place in the stomacher to silently accept the gift. He tried not to think about how lovers were the traditional givers of busks.

"It was. I carved it myself. I'm a feminist." Crowley shuffled his feet before walking to the door and holding it open. "After you, sir".

Aziraphale smiled and walked past Crowley and into the hallway. He was on the stairs when Crowley's words stopped him.

"Why'd you decide to put that on after all this time?" He leaned on the banister to look down at Aziraphale with a crooked smile.

"I wanted to see if it still fit me. I was in awe at the condition of my stays. Nearly three hundred years and they're still so lovely" Aziraphale continued down once he was sure Crowley was following.

Crowley was quiet for a moment, but at the bottom of the stairs, he stopped to watch Aziraphale as he nervously flitted around the kitchenette. "We forgot that little shawl you wore. Or that white cloth you put on your shoulders and tucked into the top of your dress. You never used to wear it like this"

He was right. Aziraphale's shoulders, left bare by the wide neckline felt suddenly quite cold. "I think I might have remembered it if I had dressed alone. I had a process"

"Right and everything you have closes in the front," Crowley said as if putting pieces of a puzzle together. "I always liked to get dressed with other ladies, they had some cool fashion tips. In hindsight, most of the choices we made were absolutely buck wild. You were always so sensible. Except for that suit in 1793 with that coat and the lace-up the sides of your britches. And those shoes" he said the last bit with too much fondness to really be insulting.

"Oh I do miss those shoes" it went unsaid why those shoes hadn't survived song with so many other things from the same era. He could never get the blood of revolution out of the blue-silver satin.

“What else did we do wrong then?” Crowley looked over Aziraphale, walking in a small circle around him.

Aziraphale swallowed. The weight of Crowley’s eyes on him had long since become familiar and comforting. With the exposure so fresh in his mind, however, he could feel that weight in his core, warming him. “Pockets. I was about to put on my pockets when you walked in, they’re still in the armoire”

“Those pockets!” Crowley clapped his hands together “They were big enough to fit a whole… ham. Something big. A change of clothes, plenty of food. You could pick up your life and leave with what you carried under your petticoats.”

Still under Crowley’s gaze, Aziraphale wanted to be back in that first moment upstairs with his thin linen shift and nice clocked stockings. The shift, if he was entirely honest with himself, was close enough to sheer for Crowley to have noticed that Aziraphale had once elected to _make an effort_ and never made another, secondary effort to undo the first. Crowley hopefully wouldn't ask why, he didn’t need another reason to glare at the Oscar Wylde section in the shop. He’d at least get to ask how long ago Crowley had made the addition to his body. It was obvious he had, in pants that sat as close to the skin as his, he couldn’t hide that he had given himself something to work with as well. He could hear Crowley behind him take a step back.

“Would you show me how it looks with your wings?” Crowley asked softly.

There was an attempt to suppress the chill that ran through him, but it was ultimately fruitless. A second shudder rocked him when his feathers ruffled against several layers of fabric.

“Fuck's sake, Aziraphale!”

“What?” He turned to look, but Crowley was walking away to the backroom, to his usual chair.

He dragged an embroidered ottoman in front of him where he sat and patted its cushion. “Sit here, I’m fixing your wings.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. The thought of Crowley’s fingers carding through his feathers made him need to focus to keep his knees steady. “Realy, dear boy is that necessary?”

“Yes. They’re so messy. Please?”

“Fine. But if you complain about them even though you offered I will move to my usual chair” He sat as gracefully as he could with this adrenaline running as it was.

Crowley's hands came to rest on the carpal joint of Aziraphale's wings, guiding him to relax. He slipped his fingers under the fabric of the dress to smooth down the smallest feathers closest to his back. It must have been difficult to ignore how Aziraphale's breath hitched.

Unsure what to do with his hands, Aziraphale tucked them into the pocket slits of his dress, his fingers gripping the fabric of the shift.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Crowley asked, with a sudden weight to his voice. He didn't stop setting feathers right, but it was clear this interaction was about to grow even tenser.

His mind raced with possibilities. "Talk about what, dear?"

Crowley sighed and his touch left him entirely. "You pulled away. We got our freedom, you know? I thought- hey this is great, Aziraphale and I can finally…" the couch shifted as Crowley gestured vaguely "but you pulled away. I haven't heard from you in nearly three weeks. Before- sure- I wouldn't be bothered. I'd get it. Avoid the heavenly gaze and all. I expected things to change. I expected us to move on,"

Aziraphale was formulating an apology, but the words "move on" made him turn to look at Crowley, nearly hitting him with his wings "move on? I thought you were going to talk about… us. I never envisioned a future where you're not…" he couldn't even get out the words in his distress.

Crowley shook his head "no, no. Move on from them. Together. I'm not planning on going anywhere you're not"

Aziraphale sighed in relief and returned his gaze ahead. He felt Crowley start to groom his wings again and he had to fight to keep his reactions discreet. "I _am_ sorry I hid away from you. I feel I've spent 6,000 years building and maintaining a dam. And I've spent just as long terrified of Heaven or Hell finding out about you. I'm still scared, I just don't know why anymore. Maybe what scares me is letting go of that dam. What if I drown you in everything I've held back? What if I made you wait for something that isn’t worth it?" Crowley's fingers were buried in his feathers and it made his back arch. He had to bite his lip to suppress a moan, but there was some sound. "I-I don't know what comes next, Crowley. I think that's part of what's scaring me. The longing, the tension, hiding and denying, I grew into that just fine. I learned to flirt. I read every romance novel I could so much as stomach. I hardly know what to do with myself around you. Nothing's changed between us in so long. What if everything I want is too much?"

Crowley was quiet for a moment, working over Aziraphale's wing and ignoring the way he whimpered in response. "Angel, are you saying you're worried that _you'll_ go too fast?"

Aziraphale frowned "When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous. I'm worried I'll misstep. Or I'll fumble. Maybe I won't be worth the wait, or I can't live up to your imagination"

Crowley buried all of his fingers deep into the feathers and combed downward, deliberately drawing a sharp gasp from Aziraphale "you should have realized by now, I'll be satisfied with anything, as long as it's you. Nothing has to change, really. I just want to hear from you more,"

A shudder shook Aziraphale for a few moments, and his eyes had fallen shut. He expected a conversation like this, if it were ever to happen, to be more dramatic. More momentous. Less erotic. "I never thought it through this far." He admitted "I never thought we'd get this free. I never could have imagined we'd be here, stepping around the topic of a relationship like a puddle. I'm not afraid to get my shoes wet, or scared of the splash. I suppose I just don't want to disturb the mirror surface of the water". He swallowed "I'm sorry, dear boy, I don't know what I'm getting at"

"Well… water settles. Eventually, the ripples will go away. It will feel like it's always been that way. I can't pretend I'm not nervous too. I don't know what you want from a relationship, that worries me. I don't know if anything I want is too much. I’m terrified that one day you’ll find the sonnets and songs I had written about you and you’ll know. You’ll know how desperate I am for you. I’m scared that telling you this last secret I’ve kept, letting you know everything there is to know, well, what if that kills the mystery? What if that kills your interest in me?"

“You don’t need to persuade me. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. I think I’d have liked to hear those sonnets. I’ve filled books with quotes from poems and novels that reminded me of you. Anything that spoke fondly of snakes or described loving a person so much that you love everything else too. It would have mortified me if I saw you reading one of them. It would have given me away”

Crowley hummed “I’d never find the right books in all this mess, there’s no use in looking for them. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try, it just means I won’t try when you can see. It would be embarrassing for you to see me give up”

“Should we date?” Aziraphale asked, half wondering if that decision had already been made and he accidentally missed it.

His chest rattled with a deep breath “Well that would depend, wouldn’t it? If you want to, so do I, so we should. If you don't, and we’re not on the same page, then…”

“I do” Aziraphale said quickly “I do want to. I want to do everything with you”

“Everything?” Crowley asked, and it was obvious from his tone that he had an eyebrow cocked.

Aziraphale blushed “Well, I mean… in a sense. I want. Well, most things that two people who feel the way we do would get up to alone in a room that might have a bed in it”

Crowley chuckled, low and deep in Aziraphale’s ear “Oh you’ll _have_ to elaborate”

"If I had to describe how I want you, the humiliation would likely kill me," he shifted in his skirts, nearly whimpering at the feeling of fabric dragging against sensitive skin.

"Now you've piqued my interest" Crowley moved around the ruffles of Aziraphale's skirts for a while before grabbing his waist and dragging him closer, bringing their hips flush together.

"Oh!" Aziraphale exclaimed rather ineloquently when he identified the feeling of Crowley start to harden against his backside. His wings were pinned against his chest and the pressure thrilled him "Well if you must know I-... I would like to spend a good long while inside with you. We could look at each other and-"

Crowley curled his fingers over the carpal joints again, this time putting on a gentle pressure "you don't have to be vague about it, Angel, it's just us". The way he purred "Angel" made Aziraphale swallow. "All I really want is to give you what you ask for. You need to tell me how you want me. "

Aziraphale leaned back into Crowley and he whined quietly. "When you walked in, before I was fully dressed, I wanted that moment to go on forever. Or… or maybe if you had come in earlier. Before I put anything on. But I wouldn't want that if it didn't also excite you"

He pulled him closer, practically in his lap "of course seeing you naked would excite me, Aziraphale. I've wanted that since I first saw you. What else do you want?"

Aziraphale moaned, imagining Crowley lifting up his skirt and sinking to the floor between his legs “I want to tell you how lovely you are”

“That’s all? Do you want to hear how pretty _you_ are? How much I’ve always wanted to tear your clothes off” Aziraphale arched into Crowley’s touch on his wings “Do you want to know how I want you”

“Yes please” Aziraphale nearly begged, too quickly and too eager for his tastes but he was rewarded with a kiss on the back of his neck that melted him.

“That’s good. I’ll tell you one thing you want to know for everything you tell me that I want to know. Sound fair, Angel?”

He whimpered and nodded, though part of him was worried he’d soon forget the words he needs. “I like it when you talk to me like that, with your voice low telling me what to do. I liked it when you shoved me against that wall at St. Beryls. I like it when you do things for me just because I want it. I like how you watch me eat”

“I don’t watch you eat.” Crowley said, a tad defensive.

“You do”

“Agree to disagree. What was that, then? Four things? Let’s see… In Rome, you once spoke to me for an hour and when you walked away, I couldn’t remember a single thing you said to me because I had been too busy trying to look up your toga for a peek at your thighs. The first time I saw you in a dress like this, with these big skirts, I wanted to crawl under your petticoats and your shift and stay there. Aziraphale, every single time I've gotten this hard, I was thinking about you, the way you purse your lips when you're unimpressed with me or the way you looked me over in the Bastille"

"Why, Crowley, you can't seem to get the Bastille out of your mind. You looked quite rugged that day. I was struck with the way you were sitting, mostly." Aziraphale tilted his head back to rest on Crowley's shoulder, letting his words come out as a stream of consciousness. "You were leaned back, one leg on the ledge with you and the other… miles away. I'd never seen a man open his legs so wide in such tight breeches. I had to fight to keep my eyes off your legs. The way you talked to me, too, so casual and confident. And I was _chained_ "

"I might like you to elaborate on that. We both know you could have gotten yourself out of that. Your true form has a lion head and at least six sets of wings. You're not some damsel in distress. What about being chained made you want to stay that way?" Crowley asked like a detective guessing at a motive. He kissed Aziraphale's neck again, grinning when he wiggled in response. "Do you like pretending to be helpless?"

A strong shudder ran through him "yes. I want to feel powerless. Crowley, you said you wanted to tear my clothes off and that would be simply- but not these clothes, or my nice jacket. God in Heaven, dear, if you don't stop touching my wings, I may-"

Crowley had his hands up before the word "wings" was finished. "No that's much too soon. You" he paused, "your hands are in your skirt!" The accusatory tone wasn't very convincing under his amusement and arousal. "Are you touching yourself?"

"No!" he pulled his hands free of his skirts and used them to cover his face.

"Are we doing this too fast?" His tone was gentle and worried. His eyes held no judgment.

Aziraphale sighed and turned his body to look at Crowley "No, I'm just… embarrassed. In a way, that only excites me more." his wings fluttered behind him, trying to get ruffled feathers to lay flatter. "Do you remember the way you held yourself as Nanny Ashtoreth? The dominance of it"

“That was what, six years ago? Of course, I remember” Crowley held his hands out and Aziraphale grabbed them “You want authority, then?”

“Only from you. Did you say you wanted to be under my skirt?”

“I’d like to live there”

“Goodness,” Aziraphale breathed, finding himself very warm under his stays. He moved to stand “Would you like a cup of water, dear?”

Crowley shrugged and waved a hand. “Nah. but if you need some, by all means”

He considered asking Crowley to take off his glasses like he would when they’d get exceptionally drunk. Instead, he just nodded and went to the kitchenette where he filled a glass. Upon returning to the back room, he saw that Crowley had moved the ottoman away from himself, leaving the space in front of his crossed legs clear.

Crowley was sitting straighter in his chair, a posture Aziraphale recognized and associated with black wool skirts and a silly bird-shaped umbrella. “Come here, Angel” he offered a small gesture with his finger to indicate the carpet directly in front of him.

Aziraphale shuddered, moving to obey the moment the words fully registered. When he got closer, Crowley uncrossed his legs and spread them as wide as his skinny jeans permitted. Crowley looked expectant until Aziraphale was between his knees.

“You know you don’t have to do what I ask, right?” Crowley asked, the pinch of his eyebrows too genuinely concerned to keep up his airs. “You could say no to me. You can be disobedient, nothing will happen to you. You know that right? That I’ll still love you? No matter what you do”

He frowned, his heart suddenly feeling quite heavy and cold in his chest. “I’m not afraid of you,” he assured, “I know you, you’re not Heaven. I do want to do what you tell me to. If there is something I don’t want to do, I’ll say no. I’ll still love you, too. No matter what you do” he leaned down to rest his forehead on Crowley’s. It’s the sort of closeness he’d craved since romance was invented.

Crowley lifted himself very slightly from the seat to kiss Aziraphale and for a moment, he thought time stopped. The kiss was, by all practical measures, not special. It was simple. But it was momentous. It was the small step for man onto the moon’s surface for the first time since its creation. It was the first snowflake of the longest winter on record. It was the moment a single stone crumbled and toppled a dam to let the water gathered there for centuries rush out. It made Aziraphale forget to breathe.

Aziraphale spent several seconds after the kiss breathlessly giggling. He had expected their first kiss to tilt his world on its axis, not spin it. “Oh, my”

Crowley tried to keep a straight face, but his lips wobbled. “Fuck, you’re adorable”

He blushed, unable to fight a happy grin at the praise “Thank you, dearest. You’re beautiful”

Crowley blushed this time, biting his lip and turning his head away. “Hush it” he said despite the smile that fought its way to his face.

“You are. You have lovely cheekbones and a wonderful jawline”

“You have my permission to marry my skull”

“But of every detail of you that has haunted my thoughts for millennia, your eyes are my favorite” Aziraphale cupped the side of Crowley’s jaw, his fingers resting on his neck. “Would you take your glasses off for me?”

Crowley obliged so quickly the sentence wasn’t complete. He folded his glasses and put them on the side table. There was a vulnerability in the way he looked up at Aziraphale.

“Like molten gold,” he said, leaning down again to kiss Crowley’s nose.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s chin while it was in front of his mouth, then leaned forward to kiss his neck. He chuckled when Aziraphale shuddered and let his serpent’s tongue run over his clavicle. “Tell me what you want?”

“Please give me another order.”

"Lift your skirts"

Aziraphale's knees wobbled and he let out a breathy little gasp. He couldn't think of anything else Cowley could have said that would have made him feel quite so electrified. He buried his fingers in the fabric to get all of the layers and balled his fists to pull it all upwards. Aziraphale watched Crowley's eyes travel with his hem from his ankles up his legs until stockings gave way to skin. He paused with half of his thighs exposed and Crowley looked up to search his eyes for apprehension. Meeting his gaze gave him the courage he needed to gather as much of the skirt as he could into his arms. He could feel the air against his belly at the same moment Crowley looked back down. Crowley blushed so heavily that his ears turned red. Aziraphale would be lying if he said he hadn’t pleasured himself imagining eerily similar scenarios. The idea of revealing his body to Crowley had haunted him for a very long time, testing his resolve like an unbearable craving. Now, having what he had long since wanted, Aziraphale burned under Crowley’s studying gaze. Asking him to take his glasses off had been a phenomenal idea. He’d have hated to miss the way Crowley’s eyes widened and his pupils dilated just slightly to let in more light. As if he wanted to see Aziraphale more clearly. To see his _cock_ more clearly. Aziraphale considered burying his face in his gathered skirts just to hide what he was sure was an expression of pure arousal.

There was a moment wherein Aziraphale spared a thought to a drawing he’d seen a few times, of a lady in a quite similar dress lifting her skirts to show a frightened demon. He considered making some dry-toned joke about that particular superstition, but he couldn’t order the words in his head properly and something told him speaking wouldn’t be any easier than coherent thinking.

“I don’t remember ever seeing anything this beautiful” Crowley said barely loud enough to hear. He hadn’t blinked since his first glimpse of ankle. He never seemed to truly need to blink, but when he remembered to, he did. There was more he was forgetting. His scleras were as gold as his irises, the way they were when they first met in Eden and when Aziraphale took his body for a test drive.

Aziraphale could feel warmth in his ears contesting the warmth between his legs at the high compliment. He leaned forward half an inch. Just enough to rest his shaking legs against Crowley’s chair. “You didn’t look before? After the end?”

“‘Course not” Crowley put a hand just above Aziraphale’s knee, where his stockings came to an end. “I stopped myself. I thought about it, of course, I’m still a demon. But I realized I didn’t want to see anything without your permission” his eyes, seemingly with immense effort, rose up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “Why? Did you?”

Aziraphale shook his head “I promise I didn’t, I only thought of it after it was too late to try anyway. I did fantasize about the idea of you in my body, when you were alone here. I imagined you spread yourself before a mirror and-”

“Wait, don’t finish saying that” Crowley pleaded, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Are you alright, dearest?”

“I’m trying to save my favorite pants” he took a few deep breaths before he opened his eyes again.

“Dear boy if it’s that pressing an issue, why don’t you just take them off?” Aziraphale asked as if it was a normal thing for him to say to the love of his long life. As if Crowley couldn’t see the way it made his cock jump.

“Do you know how embarrassed I’ll be if I come the moment you look at me?” he grumbled and lifted his hand to snap his fingers and his shirt was gone with his pants.

Aziraphale had, of course, never seen Crowley naked before. He hadn’t even seen his chest uncovered since Egypt. He was harrier now, unsurprisingly considering the attitude the ancient Egyptians took towards body hair. Aziraphale liked the light brushstrokes of red hair that now adorned him. He liked the lean muscle of his body. Any other shape would have seemed wrong for the serpent of Eden. Also unsurprisingly, Crowley’s cock was bigger than Aziraphale’s, and the hair there more striking in its contrast against his skin. “Tell me what you want next, Angel?”

Aziraphale considered pulling Crowley to the ground by the shirt to roll around like wild animals. He also considered climbing into Crowley’s lap to ride him like a tart. As with most situations, Aziraphale chose to hold himself with as much dignity as he could muster. “I’d appreciate it if you would make love to me. I would, however, settle for more kisses”

“I wouldn’t turn down the chance to make love with you” Crowley mumbled the last words, and Aziraphale got the amusing impression that he’d be less embarrassed calling it fucking. “I still want specifics, though”

“Well I…” he lowered his skirts enough to cover himself, but Crowley rose his eyebrows in the way that Nanny Ashtoreth would when she was disobeyed. He quickly pulled the skirts back up, fighting to stop his breath from stuttering. He couldn’t keep from squirming under Crowley’s inspection and it made the demon grin. “I can’t say I ever thought it through that far. I’m certainly worried that it will be over too soon however we go about it”

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be. I’d bet all it takes to keep you from coming before we want is a small miracle.”

“I never thought to use miracles. I suspect it’s because nobody in the books I’ve read has had the ability”

“Oh, you got your understanding of sex from books, did you?” Crowley asked, amused “Blessed mess, that really shouldn’t be so hot”

“I don’t think ‘Bless This Mess’ is a swear, dear”

“Not the point” Crowley groaned “ alright listen, Angel, I’ll take care of all the timing. Just tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about, something I can help you bring to life”

Aziraphale bit his lip. There were so many options. Still, when he was asked, his mind blanked. In a few moments, he formulated an answer. “My dear, would you take me to my bed and tie me to it? I always liked the idea of my body at your mercy, your hands everywhere. I’d like to see your wings against mine, too, if that’s alright. Even if only when you come”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s gathered skirts and did something that was most likely supernatural to affix them to Aziraphale’s stays, freeing Aziraphale’s arms from their task. He kept his hands on the stays, guiding Aziraphale closer to him and into his lap “You’re not asking too much. You could never ask too much. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s the only way to repay you for giving me everything I’ve always wanted”

Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s skin against his own sensitive skin of his thighs. With Crowley’s hand on his back pressing their chests together, Aziraphale only had to incline his head to press his lips to Crowley’s neck.

“I am concerned that you don’t have a bed, though”

“I do now”

Crowley snapped his fingers and sure enough, when they disappeared and appeared again in Aziraphale’s dressing room, they landed on a newly added bed. “Now, could you clarify something for me?” he took Aziraphale’s wrists in each hand and leaned forward to pin him against the bed underneath him “Did you want me to make love to you -and- kiss you, or was it more of an either-or option?”

Aziraphale’s hips tilted upward and he was sure that whatever Crowley was going to do to delay his orgasm must have already been done, because otherwise he’d have made quite the mess of Crowley’s stomach “I was hoping you would be so generous as to allow me both”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale and put both of his wrists into one hand so that the other hand could run down the brocade of the stays and past the voluminous skirts to smooth his palm over the curve of Aziraphale’s hip and ass.

“Could you bend me over, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked “Please?”

“When have I ever been able to say no to you?” he pulled away enough to grab Aziraphale’s thigh to flip him over. They had petticoats between them again, and Crowley hiked them up Aziraphale’s back. There was a quiet moment as Crowley held his breath as if in awe of Aziraphale’s ass.

He let out a breathy gasp when Crowley leaned over him to tie his wrists to the headboard, his hips pressed against Aziraphale’s. He could feel Crowley purposefully roll his hips to rub his cock against him. “Crowley, did it ever take self-control not to strip me and take me” he let his shoulders rest on the bed, leaning his ass up against Crowley.

“It takes extreme will power.” Crowley growled in his ear “Just like right now”

“Please tell me about it” Aziraphale asked, nearly begging.

Crowley gave the soft scarves that tied Aziraphale’s hands a final tug to tighten them before pulling back to tap at his inner thighs. “Spread your legs further.” he ordered before indulging him “I've already told you how I wanted you as early as Eden. In Rome, watching you giggle into a cup of wine, I thought about how easy it would be to orchestrate some mishap that would tear your linen. I'd have aimed to break the connections at your shoulders and make it fall to the floor around your feet." He adjusted the placement of Aziraphale's knees "will you keep your legs like this or do I need to tie them?"

"I won't move" Aziraphale promised. He bit his lip as he felt Crowley's hands on his thighs, mapping out the shape of them. It was a shame he couldn't see Crowley any more, but he was sure he'd have time in the future to look. "This isn't… the only chance, is it? Will we… do any of this again?"

"As often as you'll allow" Crowley leaned over Aziraphale's back again, this time to kiss at the skin left exposed by the wide neckline of the dress.

"What if I'm insatiable?"

"All the better" Crowley touched Aziraphale's hips and thighs and belly, but teasingly avoided his cock. "How is it that you're softer than I expected? Not just your wings"

"I'm sorry, I'd forgotten they were there" he paused "should I put them away?"

Crowley put his hands on Aziraphale's wings, his fingers burrowing between the feathers. "Leave them. You wanted to see our wings together, after all"

Aziraphale moaned and spread his wings out on the Heaven's Dress tartan bedspread. He shook and again knew that if it weren't for Crowley preventing it, he'd have come.

"Is it too much?"

"It's just so difficult to be patient" He admitted "I don't want this to end, but at the same time, I want you inside of me" he turned his face to the blanket for a moment to hide, his wings drawing up higher to almost cover his head "I do hate wanting contradictory things"

"We'll come back to this, Aziraphale" Crowley promised "you don't really have to choose. We have the rest of forever. Seems like plenty of time to try everything you'd like at least twice"

Aziraphale laughed "twice". He turned his face and could almost see Crowley in his peripheral vision. He loosened his grip on the scarf around his wrist to snap his fingers to prepare himself. It brought a whine and a gasp out of him.

"Oh, we're that impatient, then?"

Aziraphale's cheeks burned and he fought the urge to hide his face again "I did try to wait, and I've enjoyed it all" he assured "but at this point, I need to come eventually and I don't want that to happen before you're inside me"

"Angel, don't sound so worried. I'll give you anything. You know that. Save your head in Paris, clean your coat in Tadfield… fuck you in your new bed. Anything you want, you get." Crowley's voice was low just slightly hoarse.

"Crowley, dear" Aziraphale said "does that excite you? Performing acts of service? It certainly is your love language, isn't it?"

"Yes. Serving you turns me on" the words were nearly a growl and his hands grabbed at Aziraphale's ass. "You snapped earlier. Do you think it was enough? Are you ready?"

"I'm ready, love" he arched his back as much as he could from his already bent position.

The pressure in the air changed and a blanket of black feathers settled over Aziraphale's wings. Crowley's wingspan was wider than Aziraphale's, but the white feathers poked out past Crowley's along the bottom edge. Crowley snapped his fingers and when he pressed himself against Aziraphale's opening, they were both lubricated.

"Fuck"

"Oh? Isn't it illegal for you to say that?" Crowley teased, but something in his tone said he liked it.

"Well I said it once before when things were particularly bad, but somehow it seems equally appropriate for something very good"

"No, it's completely appropriate" his hands gripped Aziraphale's hips as he began to push his way in "would you say it again for me?"

" _Fuck_ " he whined. He'd never fantasized about anything as pleasing as the situation he was in. "You'll be careful not to stain my clothes, right?"

Crowley laughed, if breathlessly "I'll keep your clothes safe"

Under Crowley's chest and wings, Aziraphale felt warm and cradled. He could understand the willingness to nap if the bed always came with such comfort. Maybe when they were done, he'd ask if Crowley would hold him while they sleep. It seemed worth a try. For now, though, he couldn’t do much besides moan and tug at his restraints while Crowley sheathed himself. It wouldn’t take much effort or power to free himself, but there wasn't any fun in admitting that he wasn’t helpless. He liked being bare and spread beneath his demon. Still, when he thought too much about how mad the last hour had been, he worried he’d imagined all of it. How could their millennia of torture be over so easily? Could they really break down their barriers so quickly in real life? “Am I dreaming?” he asked.

“Well, what could I possibly say to that that would assure you you’re not?” Crowley panted.

Aziraphale let out a breathless laugh “I don’t know. I don’t think I could imagine all of this in such detail. I’m ready for you to move, if you are”

Crowley’s hips started slowly pulling back so that they could once again push in “I was worried about the same thing, if it means anything. But then I saw your cock and I knew this was real” He dragged a fingertip up the underside of Aziraphale’s cock, making him nearly sing. Prolonged arousal without a single touch had left him sensitive and desperate.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale breathed out, mind spinning with Crowley’s voice talking about his cock.

“Well, I’ve always imagined you bigger,” he said, picking up the pace of his rolling hips “But also I could never imagine the details of it, or your body. But today, when I saw you all small and pink and perfect, and the gold stretch marks on your thighs… I did mean it. You’re the prettiest thing I've ever seen and I hate that eventually, you’ll have to get dressed again. Since that first glance, I don’t know if I can go back to seeing so little of the full picture”

“Are you saying you want me to stay naked for you? Would you bring me books and food so that I wouldn’t ever need to get dressed to go out again?” in practice, he wouldn’t want to stay inside forever, but the thought of never covering himself in front of Crowley did make him quiver.

“Fuck, Aziraphale” Crowley moaned “A simple miracle and the humans can’t see you. Or we can make them see clothes if there aren’t any. I wouldn’t keep you cooped up. Now, If we were in a different, less puritan time, I wouldn’t bother with hiding you at all. I’d say…” His fingers curled around Aziraphale’s cock and he drew his hand along it slowly “Let them see. Let them know what a lucky bastard I am with a stark naked Angel of the lord on my arm”

Aziraphale’s hips twitched and it drove Crowley deeper into him, drawing the breath from his lungs. “Crowley” he whined his name as he desperately thought for something more to say, something to add to the conversation, but all he could think about was how desperate he was to come. “Please” he sobbed “I’m sorry I can’t last longer, I-”

Crowley snapped his fingers and the floodgates opened for both of them. The air crackled with their power and their cries of each other’s names filled their ears. The wooden bars of the headboard groaned and splintered under the force of Aziraphale pulling on his restraints. They slumped where they were, panting and giggling. Crowley snapped his fingers again and the mess was gone, along with the restraints and Aziraphale’s clothes, except for his stockings. Feeling Crowley’s skin against his whole body, and being of divine stock, he felt about ready to work up towards another round. But Crowley was collapsed in his bed next to him, gulping lungfuls of air.

Aziraphale pressed himself to Crowley, letting his head tuck under his chin. “When you gave me your busk today, I was wondering how I’d find a way to pleasure myself about it”

“Oh good, I was flirting, after all. I figured something old fashioned would get the point across to you.” He started brushing his fingers through Aziraphale’s short white curls.

“You could have put our initials on it. Like lovers did.”

“Like straight lovers did” Crowley pointed out “The ladies I hung out with would just exchange their busks. I like that better anyway. We’ve both held the same piece of wood close to our hearts.”

"That's very sentimental of you, darling." Aziraphale shifted so that he could kiss Crowley. He took this time to let his hands run over Crowley's body, the way he couldn't while he was tied up. "You're very pretty. When I first read Homer describe the wine-face sea, I couldn't think of water, I could only think of your hair. Have you ever seen a bottle of strawberry wine? That's the exact color of your hair"

"Fuck, you're a nerd." Crowley said, trying to sound casual, but he was fighting tears.

"Dear boy…" Aziraphale cupped Crowley's face "are you okay?"

"I just" he took a deep breath and looked anywhere but Aziraphale's eyes "I never thought I'd get to hold you. I never expected any of this, I was ready to be semi-distant friends for centuries. I don't know why I feel like I'm going to cry. I'm so happy"

"It's _because_ you're that happy, Crowley" Aziraphale said gently and kissed his nose. He could feel his throat start to tighten himself and his eyes began to sting. "It is a bit overwhelming, isn't it? I bang think of any other time so much changed in one day"

"Entire empires have fallen in just a day, Angel"

"I mean for us. Of course, other than the day we met" Aziraphale brought his hand around to the back of Crowley's head to comb Yarbrough his hair.

"Did you like it better when it was long?" Crowley asked.

"Only because there was more of it" Aziraphale answered and kissed Crowley. He could feel a kind of exhaustion almost akin to what he felt on the bus to London from Tadfield. "I think I might give sleeping a serious try. If you'll hold me, I think it could be rather pleasant"

Crowley laughed "I could definitely go for that" he tucked Aziraphale back under his chin and snapped his fingers to put a blanket over them. They stayed in comfortable silence until they both slipped into sleep, their wings still out and wrapped around each other.


End file.
